


The World Could Always Use More Heroes (That Aren’t Complete Dorks)

by Luxaria



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, sometimes these heroes need to lighten up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxaria/pseuds/Luxaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The international part of the Overwatch Initiative means that there's gonna be some inevitable culture clashes between it's members, never even minding the fact mixing hyperactive children with high powered weaponry isn't always the best of ideas. Luckily they've got a selection of Team Moms and Dads to try and help out on the damage limitation front.</p><p>A place for all the dumb Overwatch stories these crazy characters inspire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tracer and McCree- Two Countries Separated By A Common Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the shitshow. Most of these aren't gonna be super in character, considering I don't quite get the timeline of events the game has laid out and the fact that most of the character probs wouldn't be heading out for a Nandos or lazing about playing Mario Kart with each other. But that's what fanfiction is for, right? If you have a prompt feel free to leave it in a comment, I'll get round to it at some point (hopefully).
> 
> English is a wonderful language, isn't it? Poor McCree...

It had been a quiet day on the base, considering he was currently sitting in the common area with a silently reading Soldier 76 and the soft occasional scratching of Mercy’s pen as she finished up some notes. Of course, this being Overwatch meant that the calm never lasted long, being disrupted by either a call to arms or-

“Oi, mate want to get dinner wiv me, Lucie and D.Va?”

A hyperactive agent. McCree turned to where the question had been asked but _of course_ Tracer had blinked on, right next to him judging by the depression in the couch where he sat. Refusing to indulge the fast moving Brit, he stood and began walking to the door while speaking.

“Sure Trace, could use a good meal- where were you thinking?”

A simple question, one that any person would be expected to ask in this situation- little did he know that this was the moment that would set him on a path to worst torment than any Talon agent could ever inflict on him. She blinked next to him, taking a deep breath before:

“Well mate, I was fancying, like, a curry club at the best place, ‘Spoons o’ course, but it’s no a Thursday so Lucio, the absolute ledge, the actual living Archbishop of Banterbury that he is, was like, ‘Brevs let’s just have a cheeky Nandos instead,’ and I thought, ‘Top, let’s smash it!’. And D.Va, bein’ the most banterful lad to exist since the Bantersaurus Rex, was like, ‘Mates we don’t have to be bus wankers just hop on my mech otherwise know as the bantmobile,’ and I’m like, ‘Absolute quali-tee lads I’m proper up for this,’ and then I thought, ‘Who else on the base right now is in need of Top Quality Banter with a side of peri chips?’ You of course mate!”

She finished her- two? sentences, was it really only two?- with a soft punch to his shoulder.

Now to say McCree was a difficult man to truly stun was not an understatement- enough flashbangs had backfired on him to reduce their effect to a minimum. But here, after that tirade he was frozen- had that been a form of English? He turned to the other two in the room who were staring at the girl grinning next to him; ‘76 with questioning look on his face and Mercy with an odd look of disgust on her face. He was starting to sweat as he turned back to Tracer.

“Er, ‘scuse me, what?”

“I mean I woulda asked Reinhardt but he’s a bit too much of an absolute madman for Nandos, he’s more of a 3am Macdos kinda lad, bouncin’ in and out when you’re wankered and proper hank marvin’ after a jumpin night in the club where ya pulled some absolute 10’s!”

By this time ‘76 and Mercy had both moved towards him. He was feeling faint. What was Tracer saying? His breathing was coming in heavy pants as he blinked at the girl. He flicked his head to Mercy who was looking concernedly at him but the corners of her lips were curled up in a slight smirk, what was funny? What was the joke?

“Sir! Sir I- I- don’t know what she’s saying! I don’t understand!” The cowboy clutched at his head, “How can a restaurant be cheeky? When did Lucio become an Archbishop?” He was almost in tears now, “I didn’t even know he was religious! And what’s a Bantersaurus Rex? Was she speaking English? Wait. Am I having a stroke?” He clutched at his commander’s jacket, “Is this what having a stroke feels like?!”

Tracer tilted her head at him.

“So it’sa no then? Fine, next time we’re hitting up the church of Nandos you are on the young team mate! No escape!”

She spun on her heel and headed of down the corridor, oblivious to the severe amount of stress she had inflicted on her teammate. On her way to the front she began a chant of “O.Y.T! O.Y.T!” which was soon joined by her two accomplices as the trio of youths headed out for… food he guessed?

The last thing he could make out before he slipped into a delirious mess was Mercy’s disapproving tone.

“I will never understand the British.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest thing about this was not slipping into Scottish slang, which is different from the Nando’s Lads’ god awful “banter”. I need a Scottish hero so I can start saying pure and shitebag and all that. (Also it’s totally Cheeky wee Nandos, lads. Flows better.)


	2. D.Va and Widowmaker- For 20,000 Euros I will stop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I get the feeling that lot’s of money passes hands within Overwatch, there’s so much blackmail material between all of them that one slip up could release a lot of secrets.
> 
> Comes from this- The only person who’s ever beaten D.Va at Mario Kart is Widowmaker. It only happened once and D.Va paid her twenty grand to never say anything. http://ladyswiftspear.tumblr.com/post/145392409304/the-only-person-whos-ever-beaten-dva-at-mario

She was lost for words. She had once gone three years without being beaten, professionally or otherwise. She wouldn’t have believed it if she couldn’t see the proof, flashing right before her eyes. She turned to her opponent, who she’d thought was gonna be an easy target- well not easy but _come on_ , how many assassins could possibly spend their time in between targets brushing up on Rainbow Road? Apparently the assassin lounging across from her- being a _way_ worse winner than she’d _ever_ been- was one who’d had a lot of free time. Or she was just super lucky with green shells. That or...

“That was just luck, there’s no way- I mean that was a fluke!”

“Are you losing your touch, _enfant_?” Widow’s smirk was infuriating. D.Va wasn’t a good loser at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. There was only one possible way this could get worse- if Lucio or Tracer somehow found out. She spun around.

“You can’t tell anyone, _not even Tracer_ , my reputation wo- would- would be ruined! My entire life would be over if people knew some random sniper could beat me.”

An infuriatingly light chuckle fell from the sniper’s mouth; she clearly didn’t comprehend how serious the situation was- that or she didn’t care. If D.Va had been taught anything by the excessive amount films she’d watched as a kid it was that there was only one solution to this problem.

“How much? What’s your price?”

The assassin looked startled by the sudden turn of events but quickly tried to cover her shock by looking back at the screen.

“You want to… buy my silence?” She pondered it for a moment before making her decision. “Okay, what about 20,000 euros?” An elegant eyebrow was arched at teenager; the ball was in her court now.

D.Va nodded at the Frenchwoman before pulling out her phone and flicking to the most recent email from her accountant, followed by a quick google of current exchange rates.

“For 20,000 euros I will not,” she stopped for a moment, looking like it physically pained her to get the next word out, “ _tweet_ about this. On my official verified Twitter created by Overwatch’s very own resident annoyances.” A smug glare, smugger than her usual resting bitch face was shot her way. “Regretting that decision now are we?”

D.Va pouted, it had been Tracer’s idea to make one for her ( _@ItsyBitsySpider_ , Lucio’s suggestion), all _she’d_ done was tweet it out to her millions of followers (and _maybe_ tell them to tweet her questions, _oh boy_ were her fans very interested Tracer and Widow’s… friendship). An action which apparently was deemed “not cool” and sending Widow’s phone the highlights of the tweets was “completely inappropriate” in a workplace environment- _even if,_ the one you were harassing was a former member of Talon. Actually the words from Mercy had been _especially_ _if_.

Widowmaker tapped her foot expectantly and D.Va sighed- she’d really backed herself into a corner here.

“I have your word?” She nodded, “Fine- 20,000 Euros and we _never_ speak of this again, you got me?”

The French assassin stood up and slunk to the door, throwing another smug grin at the teen.

“Never speak of _what_ again? Now, _excuse moi_ , I have dinner reservations to make as it appears I have just come into a great deal money, _au revoir_.”

The once undefeated champion slumped down in her seat, _crisis averted_ , _thank god for that rainy day bribe/bribe money fund McCree said any self-respecting rich person should have._

Now to go forget that ever happened- Widowmaker was right, _what loss?_


End file.
